


Organized Takeover

by CrypticWonder



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Brainwashing, Past Brainwashing, Watch me as I turn everyone against each other, a lot of people will die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-09-27 01:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20399065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticWonder/pseuds/CrypticWonder
Summary: Once we establish control over a major military power, preferably the United States (but powers such as Russia would suffice), we conscript all active duty, national guard, and reserve forces and merge them to one single army; then begins the fun part. Once we have control of the United States, and the President is under our influence. . . those who fall under the FBI SWAT, Navy SEALs, or The Unit will be forced to serve their country, and therefore those who control it, or risk facing a court martial or death by the New Order’s command. Granted, they will most definitely attempt resistance, as will much of the military, but there’s nothing like the public execution of high ranking generals who decide to disobey that can convince those under them to fall in line, and when the strongest-willed men rise up, we will quell that threat the the upmost swiftness, even in the face of danger.





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually my first attempt at a multi-chapter work this isn’t a character study or a one-shot that got dragged out too far, so I hope this pans out well.
> 
> While I recommend reading “For His Sake, Do Not Break”, it isn’t required, even if it is a prelude to this. 
> 
> A word of warning before this kicks off into full swing, there will be some graphic stuff, and a lot of your favorite operators will die or be turned against each other, so just be prepared.

_When I served with the S.A.S., they told me keep my thoughts to myself, to close my mouth and keep my eyes forward. To be subservient, eyes on the prize. But what is the prize? The completion of the mission, while the number of civilian casualties slowly racked up, caused by reckless know-it-all wannabe heroes? No, I’d rather be trying more… unconventional_ _methods of solving the world’s problems; it’s simple really. Just one or two more Bartlett’s, and the entire world is plunged into chaos, desperate leaders scrambling for any kind of support, while everyone else is trying to keep their populations at relative peace. That’s where we come in. We offer to cleanse the world, to lift the burden of handling the planet’s problems unto our shoulders, to relinquish what little control they have left to us. _

_Then, we begin the culling. The Seed family and their Eden’s Gate project had given us much insight on how to control a small country/state, before their eventual downfall of course. The tricky part was tweaking some things so that it may work with larger populations. Once we establish control over a major military power, preferably the United States (but powers such as Russia would suffice), we conscript all active duty, national guard, and reserve forces and merge them to one single army; then begins the fun part. Once we have control of the United States, and the President is under our influence, we pull out all American CTU members in Rainbow, placing them into our ranks. Those who fall under the FBI SWAT, Navy SEALs, or The Unit will be forced to serve their country, and therefore those who control it, or risk facing a court martial or death by the New Order’s command. Granted, they will most definitely attempt resistance, as will much of the military, but there’s nothing like the public execution of high ranking generals who decide to disobey that can convince those under them to fall in line, and when the strongest-willed men rise up, we will quell that threat the the upmost swiftness, even in the face of danger._

_After we gain total control over the United States, we plan domination over the rest of the world, starting with those who already have a high concentration of our followers whom we can support in their revolts, such as Afghanistan, Iraq, and Britain. One we gain control over Britain, we apply the same method in overtaking the monarchy and military, merging any of who’s left of the S.A.S. and Scotland Yard with their American counterparts._

_While we should fully expect Rainbow’s interference and likely resistance, we should also keep in mind that once we have some of their former friends and colleagues under our thumb, they will become more and more hesitant to engage in open combat, as it may risk the lives of their once beloveds or comrades, now mortal enemies. One notable case would be that of operators “Lesion” and “Echo”; while they were under our captivity, we had managed to brainwash “Echo”, who had later revealed himself to be Masaru Enatsu, while “Lesion” went by Liu Tze Long. Thanks to his, contributions, we have confirmed intel on the locations and layouts of their bases in Los Angeles, Japan, and Britain. Best case scenario, we can implant an undercover agent close enough to Team Rainbow (preferably a recruit) to trigger the sleeper override, rendering him completely obedient to our commands. Then, while he is sent out on a mission, he kills as many of the operators as he can before his demise or capture. _

_If you would be so kind as to grant me the resources to set this plan into action, I guarantee you results, and the overtaking of at the very least, two major military powers. Seek me out whenever you desire, so that I may give you a more expansive peek on my plans, and I have a chance to request the appropriate_

_ – Alexander Morgan, to High Commandant Fenix of The New Order._

* * *

Three and a half months ago, two operators had gone missing, captured by an elite squad of White Masks. Two months ago, they had been returned home, although one hadn’t come back the same. One month ago, Echo had been activated as their undercover assassin, ready to kill his friends and family at a moment’s notice.

Implanting the recruit had been simple; there’s nothing ten thousand quid can’t do to change many people’s minds. The problem was getting the man deployed with Echo to ensure that he would get the job done. Keeping track of mission schedules had proven difficult, even with a spy amongst their ranks, making the preparations for attacks when they were spread out the thinnest all the more difficult. Waiting oh so patiently, they got all their teams and equipment ready, biding their time until they could pounce for the throat. They had finally gotten confirmation on August 25th, when their turncoat (MacMillan had been his name) had announced that at least half of Team Rainbow was being sent out to various countries for a plethora of missions and raids to be undertaken. According to their informant, a team consisting of Echo, Pulse, IQ, Rook, and himself (codenamed Task

Force Foxtrot) were being deployed to Iraq to assist in the protection of a convoy carrying extremely dangerous chemical weapons, where it was to be escorted to Firebase Charlie.

* * *

**Operation Desert Whirlwind**

**August 27 – 23:17:45**

**Task Force Foxtrot**

**Ramadi, Iraq**

Two days had passed, and the team had finally arrived at Firebase Charlie, exhaustion taking over, the promise of a safe place to sleep too much for them to resist. However, MacMillan was wide awake, patiently stalking behind them, ready to give Enatsu the code phrase which would prompt him eliminate them when they were most vulnerable: while they were asleep. Flopping onto the bed with grace, IQ smiled tiredly towards Echo. “_Finally, _a safe place to sleep. Too bad the bed’s are stiff as hell, right?” The German operative laughed, before slipping into unconsciousness. Rook had been the next to rush the beds, the heavy armor he wore having taken a toll on him, the straps keeping his Rhino plates together taking him a little while longer to remove since fatigue had worked its way right into the very core of his body, his movements sluggish, and his breath heavier than normal. By the time his head made contact with the pillow, he had already been snoring softly, arms wrapped tightly around the bed frame. Pulse had been the last to return to the bedside, having run to the shower before anyone else had even made it to the bunks. A small smile gracing his usually emotionless face, Pulse slowly descended upon the cot, removing his boots and socks before turning to Echo. “Have you talked to Yumi as of late? I forgot to text her before we left for the second op, and I worry that she might thinking we’d already been killed.”

Chuckling softly, the Japanese defender shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Too busy making sure everything is functional; I’m sure you understand?”

Frowning slightly, he nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. I should probably text her first thing tomorrow though, right?”

“Yes, of course. Speaking of which, I should call Lesion right now. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course. Goodnight Masaru.”

Shifting over to the small living room, he began to softly tap on his phone, holding the phone up to his ear, patiently waiting for his partner to pick up. Before long, a hushed voice comes through, voice thick from sleep. “Masaru, darling, why are you calling me in this ungodly hour? Isn’t it late over there?”

“Tze Long, it isn’t even midnight here. Besides, it’s like, six in the morning over there; shouldn’t you be up already?”

A husky laugh. “Well wouldn’t you like to know. I miss you, you know? It’s barely been two days and I already miss you,” Tze Long’s voice was dangerously low, causing Masaru to blush furiously, despite not even being able to see his lover.

“I’m sure you do. But really, have has it been for you so far? From what I heard–”A loud knock sounds from the door next to him, making him jump. “Hold on a moment, there’s someone knocking. I’ll call you later?”

“Of course, but stay safe while you’re there. I wouldn’t want you to come home with a missing finger or three.”

Hanging up, Enatsu swung the door open, ready to snap at whoever dared interrupt his call. Staring right at him, MacMillan grinned at him. “What do you want, kid?”

Tilting his head, his grin persisted. “Oh, nothing much, just admiring the clear night sky.”

Eyes beginning to blink rapidly, the Japanese defender shook slightly, muttering something unintelligible, before staring right back at the recruit. “Eliminate all Rainbow operatives?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, MacMillan let out a soft laugh. “Affirmative. Use any and all force necessary to achieve objectives. Once all objectives have been completed, rendezvous at the car park. I’ll be waiting in a Humvee.”

As he walked away, he heard the slow racking of a pistol slide, and five suppressed shots. Turn around, he heard the door’s soft click before the man’s silhouette stalked away into the darkness, pistol still in hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was that! I hope you guys enjoyed, because I personally had fun writing it.
> 
> As always, tell me what you did, or didn’t like. Any type of comment would be greatly appreciated, even if all it says is ‘AHHHHHHH’ (I assure you, even that would make my day)
> 
> My hope is to get a chapter out every week or two, perhaps switching off with OMNTT, but it’ll take me a little bit to find a groove that I can work with.


	2. Ordeals in the Outback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mildly heavy chapter, with pretty graphic descriptions of death, and people dying. I wouldn’t consider this as *really bad*, but it certainly isn’t for the faint of hearted.

**Operation Urban Vengeance**

**August 28 – 6:47:32**

**Close Protection Detail Romeo**

**Melbourne, Australia**

_Ring_

_Ring_

_Ring_

Waking up, the first thing Tze Long was _not _expecting was a call from his beloved. Still groggy from sleep, his hands fumbled about the nightstand, searching for the source of the now obnoxious ringing. Fingers finally curling around his phone, Lesion held the phone to his ear, half-deaf ears listening for a voice on the other end.

“Tze Long? You there?”

Ah, so it was Masaru. _Makes sense, he would want to make sure that everything was going well with us_. “Masaru, darling, why are you calling me in this ungodly hour? Isn’t it late over there?”

A quiet chuckle. “Tze Long, it isn’t even midnight here. Besides, it’s like, six in the morning over there; shouldn’t you be up already?”

Letting out a coarse laugh, Lesion shook his head. “Well wouldn’t you like to know? I miss you, you know? It’s barely been two days and I already miss you,” Tze Long’s voice was near seductively low, and he knew full well of the effects it had on his lover. He could almost _see_the blush forming around his face, flustered, but still maintaining his composure.

“I’m sure you do. But really, how has it been for you so far? From what I heard–” a muffled knock resonates from the phone, cutting Masaru off.

“Hold on a moment, there’s someone knocking. I’ll call you later?” Less a question, and more of a reassurance, one that would be shattered into pieces by the end of the day.

A quiet sigh, one of fear for Enatsu, but unreadable by the phone’s mic. “Of course, but stay safe while you’re there. I wouldn’t want you to come home with a missing finger or three.” A restrained laugh, then silence as the only noise emanating from his cellphone was the chime that rang out when a call ended.

* * *

Something was wrong, and Tze Long could feel it, he just couldn’t place a finger on _what _was going on. Even if he could tell someone, what could he do? He was across the world in Australia, his protection mission for some politician already completed, with nothing to do but wait until the extraction date would arrive. Grumbling to himself, Lesion soon rolled out of bed, awakening just Ying (thankfully she was the only light sleeper in the group. Dokkeabi was far too heavy a sleeper and Lesion knew that Maverick and Mozzie were near deadly sleepers). Shuffling around the shared rooms , he maintained his daily routines pressing his hair down into a slightly less messy state than when he first awoke, brushing his teeth, taking a cold shower, and finally brewing a pot of coffee before settling down onto a bar stool with his cellphone in hand, already scrolling through the daily happenings in Hong Kong and abroad. To his dismay, it seemed that Hong Kong was still in a state of disaster. Even though the Extradition Bill had been fully withdrawn, protestors has still continued to hold rallies, severely damaging local businesses and ruining once quiet neighborhoods. Feeling a warm hand on one shoulder and a small chin on the other, Tze Long tilted his head _just _enough to see Ying with bun messily wrapped, and her glasses resting on her nose, far too low for her to see properly unless she was looking down. “Those protesters still wreaking havoc? I thought the PM already withdrew the Bill?”

A small nod. “Yes, it seems that they do not understand that the withdrawal means they’ve won. Unfortunate, really; in their plunder to achieve victory, they’ve ruined Hong Kong’s economy in less than four months. I truly pity the police officers back home.”

Before anyone had the chance to react, the main door burst open, a bloodied man shambling in. Jumping to their feet, Ying rushed forwards, guiding the man to the couch, his gait a limp before he collapsed onto the soft cushioning. Reaching under one of the coffee tables, Mei Lin procured two handguns and four magazines, before sliding half of each across the floor to Tze Long, who was now crouched behind the bar, Super Shorty in one hand. Gently placing the shotgun down, Lesion collected the pistol, a Glock 19, checking the ammo count in each mag, before sliding one in, quietly racking the slide. Training his sights onto the door, he motioned for Mei Lin to move to the bunk room, where the sound-proofed walls had probably muffled all the commotion that had just unfolded. Understanding his hand gestures, she began to count down in Cantonese, before sprinting for the side room. Opening it and entering as quickly as she could, he could only hope that she was waking and arming everyone else. As he stay motionless behind the counter, he could hear the soft_click _of the door opening, followed by what seemed to be four pairs of footsteps.

Before he had the chance to say a thing, Maverick had opened the door, a loud creak alerting everyone to his position. Two distinct weapons could be heard firing, and _ping_of ejected casings reverberated across the room. For what it was worth, the man on the couch had attempted to shoot one of the men, but he was shot before he had the chance to level his sights on any of the mystery men, the pistol firing under the pressure of his lifeless fingers curled around the trigger as he was killed. Finally emerging from cover, Lesion began steadily squeezing the trigger, slowly placing deliberate shots in each of their intended locations. Apparently the rest of his team had gotten the message, as the opposition was soon caught in a crossfire, and was much more easily dispatched of. They would be spared only a few moments of peace until tragedy would strike once more.

* * *

Once the commotion had settled down, and everyone was slumped over, more so of sheer shock and exhaustion, they took a head count. As Mei Lin’s gaze flicked across the room, her eyes finally settled on Erik, who was prone on the ground, his gaze blankly staring up, breath heavy and ragged. Rushing forth, she searched for where the bullet had entered, finding it dangerously close to his heart. She tried applying pressure to the wound, but it was far too late for him; all they could do was try to keep him calm and as painless as possible until he passed on. Dokkeabi, quite honestly, was finding it incredibly difficult to maintain her composure. In the months following up to the operation, she had been attempting to befriend Thorn, trying to see what Chul Kyung had seen in him for such a quiet man like him to make an actual effort to befriend another operator, and an_American, _no less. Needless to say, the two had become fast friends, often staying up at odd hours chatting with him about current events, and the effects they had on the world as of yet.

Now, the Delta Force operative was just _laying there_, blood ever so slowly bubbling out, dripping down his chin. Any half-hearted attempts at speech silenced instead by a blood curdling gurgle, more of the thick, crimson liquid spurting out in coughs– if it could even be called that. It sounded more like pained choking, the blood pushing itself out in such a consistent flow that it would have to be expelled of in some, _any _way he could. His slate grey eyes were glazed over into a hazy state, the pain giving way to a certain blissful floating feeling, his body so deprived of blood that it felt deathly light, now barely able to even lift a finger. Eyes now watering, Grace could take the scene no longer, her shaking hands scrambling for the morphine, the needle trembling under her hold. Right before she plunged the small syringe in, in a moment of near-death lucidity, Erik grabbed her arm, his vice-like grip unyielding under her attempts to free herself.

“Tell. . . tell Miles th–that I love him, tell him,” A hacking cough, followed by a shuddering gasp. “Tell him that I died peacefully, and that, that I’ll always watch over him. Promise me, please?” He had croaked, his voice raw from all the blood he had coughed up. Taking his hand into hers, Nam nodded, a solemn determination in her eyes.

“I promise, Erik. I promise I’ll tell him.”

As a soft smile shimmered across his face, the light dimmed in his eyes, strained breathing relaxing one last time, until his chest no longer rose and fell unsteadily, his body no longer rattling under the pressure of every breath he took.

The battle against the White Masks was just that, a battle. But now that lives had been taken, it was an all out war, and by God were they going to wage it on every front possible, no matter the obstacle; whether it be their own governments or themselves, nothing was going to stop their war.

* * *

Returning to Hereford Base had been brutally painful, the mere thought that they had come home with one less man, and would have to explain that to Miles would be enough to make anyone distraught, even the most battle-hardened men of the most elite CTU’s the world could offer. When Castle had rushed onto the helipad, the rest of the FBI SWAT in tow, his smile had been bright, beaming from ear to ear. His grin had slowly faded, however, when he saw the bodybag the team had carried out of the helicopter, with Erik nowhere in sight. Brows furrowed in confusion, his eyes scanned what remained of the team for any traces of an explanation. “Guys? Where’s Erik?”

Their unwillingness to meet his eyes said all, and he couldn’t hell but stand in absolute shock, unfeeling and unaware when his teammates had wrapped him tightly in a crushing group hug, murmuring words of apologies and encouragement as he stood motionless, eyes downcast. When he finally glanced back up, he saw that Mei Lin was finally willing to meet his gaze. “Show me?”

The question hadn’t been needed to be asked twice. With hesitation, they gently lowered the bodybag, taking their time to softly open the zipper, making sure to not disturb anything for Miles. Crouching down to an arm’s length from the bag, he pushed aside the flimsy plastic, revealing Thorn’s pale skin, his face as clean as the team could wipe it without disturbing too much. His blonde hair had been matted down, caked with blood that had long since congealed into solid blobs of the crimson fluid. Nodding in confirmation, he slowly turned around, shuffling back to the FBI dorms, where he would be visited by a number of on-site operators, including Grave, who had told him of his lover’s last words. Recovery would not be easy, but it would come slowly and steadily, until Miles would finally be able to let Erik go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I’d like to apologize for updating late. I hate hoped to keep the schedule, but a few things got in the way. Rest assured, however. The next chapter for “Old Men Need Their Tea” is already in the works, so Sunday will definitely be an update day.
> 
> Secondly, I’m sorry that I absolutely suck at writing action and angst. The two are not my best areas of writing, so if you’ve any suggestions, feel free to tell me in the comments!
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed, drop a kudo, or better yet a comment (if you’ve the time, of couse) and tell me about your thoughts on this story, whether or not you think I should keep writing this, what you liked, etc. comments really make a writer’s day, so any coherent thoughts would be so very much appreciated!


	3. More Than One Enemy at Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anything else, I would like to apologize for not updating last week. I don’t really have an excuse, so I’m just gonna say I’m really sorry. I do plan on getting this back on track, even if I have to stay up a little later to get this done.

**August 31, 2019 – 10:27:33**

**Hereford <strike>(Base)</strike>, England**

Erik’s death had been, devastating, to say the least, and it had taken its toll on Miles. While everyone had been none the wiser to the incidents in Iraq, Team Rainbow had been mourning the loss of a crucial part of their team, and a close friend to many. Miles, in a frighteningly uncharacteristic but understandable depression, would hole himself up in his room, refusing to open the door until the late hours of the night for a meager snack to sustain himself (at that point nobody was awake except for Jackal, Doc, and maybe a handful of the engineers; all of whom were to engrossed in their own activities to heed Miles too much attention, something he very much appreciated). When he _had _finally emerged, Rainbow had been ready to step up, offering him anything he needed; while they wanted to be with him twenty-four seven, if he wanted space, they were willing, although reluctant to leave him alone for extended periods of time. When it is said that nearly all of Team Rainbow had shown up, it was no understatement; even Chul Kyung had shown up to comfort Miles, the latter willingly scooting over to allow him to sit next to him, a silent comfort when all else were murmuring their condolences, which he had soon grown tired of hearing over and over and _over_. To have someone with him, not to talk, but just to quietly sit with him instead of constantly apologizing for something that wasn’t even their fault was soothing, relaxing, he would even dare say. Surprisingly enough, even some of the recruits had shown up to pay their respects, most hailing from The Unit and the FBI SWAT, but others still dropped by, usually checking in for their respective units and offering condolences if one was out on active duty or on rotation. While some of the recruits were respectful at best, and suspicious at worst, who were they to question them in this time of grieving? It’s not like they could stop them and interrogate them on their reasons for visiting right in front of their close friend and colleague (after all, they were here in show of support, not to cause any more trauma, even if it had good intentions at heart).

Despite not having been on Team Rainbow’s roster for too long, Kaid was still very well respected, his continued service an inspiration to recruits and fellow operators alike. Throughout his years of service, he had been deployed to various theaters, having suffered his fair share of loss as well, so it was no surprise when he had elected to stand guard outside the common room, where Miles and company had settled down instead of holing up inside the Californian’s room. With his time in service being mentioned, El Fassi was no stranger to betrayal, and everything about this screamed danger. Since he obviously didn’t know Miles well enough to personally be with him at all times, he was still respected enough to stand guard outside of wherever he was to ensure his safety without too many questions raised. Although still incredibly fit, the Moroccan was still aging, and couldn’t stand guard for as long as he would like. Thankfully, many operators on base were more than willing to help out, filling any times that the older man would taking off.

* * *

Jun Takahashi was not your average SAT operative, no he was much, much more than that. Roaming down the halls, he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of Hibana, a stack of papers clutched tightly in his hands. Creeping down the corridor as quickly as he could without raising too much noise, he heard a rustling noise, followed by a feminine voice.

“Jun? You need help over there?” _Shit, there goes the quiet way out._

Plastering a smile, he turned on his heel, snapping onto Yumiko’s lithe figure. “Yumiko, hey! Nice to see you around, how have you been?”

Returning the smile, she advanced towards him, subconsciously making Takahashi tense up. “I’ve been quite alright, although I do worry for Masaru. I haven’t heard from him in days, and neither has Tze Long, which is incredibly unlike him. Say, what are all those files for?”

_Oh God, she’s onto us. _“Oh, uh, I was just fetching some papers for Doc! He said he needs Mr. Thorn’s dossier to contact his family and next of kin,” he scrambled for words, shaking his head in a feigned sadness. “It’s a shame, really, to be killed so young. And he seemed like a good man too, always putting others before himself.”

Gazing at the folders with an air of suspicion, Imagawa murmured a quiet “yeah”, before snatching up a file, flipping through the pages intently; Jun would be lying if he were to say that he wasn’t nervous as the Japanese operative kept glancing up from the file and back as she examined the dossier. Finally looking up, she placed the paper back onto the stack, nodding in approval. “Alright, but be careful Jun; they’re still grieving, so please do be kind if you encounter them.”

Nodding vigorously, the two parted ways, although one was off to more dubious pursuits.

* * *

Racing down the halls, he made his way to the SAS dorms, knocking a set into the door.

Nothing.

Knocking again, he narrowly avoided the prying eyes of other affiliated members of Rainbow, brushing off questions with thinly veiled truths; after all, one of the easiest ways to get away with a lie was to come as close as possible to the truth. Impatiently tapping his heel, he pondered coming back at a later time, until he heard a _click_, followed by the door finally opening up, a pair of familiar warm brown eyes greeting him. “Jun, love, back already? That was much faster than I had expected, but I’m glad; the sooner the better, as we say, no?” Eyes scanning across his body, the man’s brows furrowed. “You aren’t hurt, are you? Surely you encountered no resistance?”

Chuckling softly, he nodded, setting down the stack of profiles on a nearby table. “I’m fine, Morgan. You mustn’t worry so much; all that stress and you’ll have grey hairs before MacArthur.” When all the disgraced British did was gawk, he beckoned him forth, pulling him in for a quick peck. “Now come and help me pack all these damn things. We must make haste, because they’re going to notice that I’ve yet to report to Kateb with these.”

Scoffing lightly, Morgan shook his head in disbelief, before moving to help pack the piles upon piles of profiles into two duffel bags. “Yes, sir,” he said, laughing at how terribly easy it was to steal top secret dossiers from a highly classified base.This was far too easy, but who was he to complain? If everything were to go as well as this, the world would be in the palm of New Order’s hand in mere weeks, perhaps months if they encountered any small problems.

Step one: Checked off.

Step two: Get the Japanese boy’s lover, and get as much as possible from him before raiding the various outposts Team Rainbow had commandeered, and launching the chemical weapons onto American soil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you guys enjoyed. Kudos and comments are always very much appreciated, so don’t be shy! Tell me what you think, what you thought was good or bad, your theories or thoughts. Comments always help encourage productivity, so do tell me your thoughts!
> 
> Hope you guys have a good day, and good luck with your future endeavors.
> 
> Edit: I neglected to add this when I first posted, but I figured you guys should still know. Along with two friends of mine, I’ve started up a Discord server for the siege community. My hope is that with the help of you guys, we can help all writers, whether they’ve been around since the start, or if they’re just starting out, to become better, making memorable stories that anyone can enjoy. You don’t have to be a writer, hell, you could just be around to provide feedback and help give ideas if you really want.
> 
> Please do keep in mind that it is still a very small server, but anyone who would like to join, writer or not, is more than welcome. If you have questions, or would like to join yourself, you can contact my sister @WaterMelanie 0705 #4065
> 
> Again, all are welcome, so don’t be shy! We’d greatly appreciate anybody who is willing to join, as we may one day create Writer’s Workshops to help other write a specific genre.


	4. Old Scars Always Come Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note before everything goes off the rails
> 
> I (Cryptic Wonder) am currently out of country, so for approximately the rest of the month, chapters will be handled by my sister (who actually hops on my account pretty often anyways XD) 
> 
> Since her writing style may slightly differ from mine, although we both write pretty similarly, please do be kind. 
> 
> Not much else, just hope y'all still stay tuned have fun!

Creeping out of the barracks reserved for Team Rainbow had been oddly liberating, if Enatsu was to be honest. Striding down the halls, he followed the discreet markings MacMillan had left, making his way through the winding corridors and out towards the motor pool. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, the night breeze rustling his already mussed hair. Dark eyes scanning the multitude of jeeps, his eyes finally landed on MacMillan, the Englishman already waiting in one of the vehicles. Slipping into the car, he spared a glance towards the disgraced officer, awaiting further instructions. As he pulled out of the motor pool, presenting the Japanese defender’s papers to the soldier on duty as he left, MacMillan began to brief Enatsu on his next mission, the latter quietly taking in the information, his superior’s voice reduced to a soft thrumming as he mentally created an action plan on how to tackle his new priorities as he went along. 

“–ey! You still in there, Enatsu?” 

Snapping back into reality, Masaru craned his head back up to look at the older man. “Yes, my apologies. I was just plotting a preferable outline on how to take the next mission, _sir_.” Something about the honorific felt wrong on his tongue, no, everything felt wrong; but who was he to question them? He was here to serve the New Order to the tee, and only that, no more, no less.

MacMillan’s laugh was young, childish even, but under it lay a much more sinister tone. “No need to worry about that, son. We’re headed back to HQ anyways, and after that, we go get that boyfriend of yours!”

Boyfriend? He didn’t recall being in a relationship, his work life too demanding for him to pursue personal hobbies, let alone romantic interests (that much he remembered for a fact, amnesia or not). Shrugging with an air of indifference, he remained quiet for the remainder of the trip, from the car ride to an abandoned airstrip to the point of his return at the hidden landing pad nestled in the Hindu Kush. Eyes downcast, he stepped off the helicopter, bones aching from a lack of movement. Masaru began walking down the ramp, until two men emerged from the entrance, one he automatically recognized as Morgan, the other (another Japanese man, he had noticed, judging by the SAT patch and distinctive Asian features), a mystery to him.

Grinning widely as he saw the younger man, Morgan jogged forth, leaving his assumed partner behind; if he had any qualms about it, he did not make any fuss. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Morgan began welcoming him home, exclaiming nonsense of how he had been missed these last few months, inadvertently slapping his chest as he did so, eliciting a wince of pain from the former Rainbow operative. Stepping back a moment, Morgan had attempted an impassive expression, but his face betrayed all. Murmuring unintelligible words, he muttered a quick “follow , son”, before grabbing Masaru by the shoulder, guiding him to his room. Finally arriving before the metal door, Morgan all but yanked the other into the room, forcing him to strip his top off. Ridding himself of his Raid BDU's, he began turning to the Englishman, an expectant look painting his face. Before he had a chance to completely turn around, Morgan had pushed him onto the small cot, holding him down by the leg. Fishing a phone out of his pocket, the older man flipped through to the camera app, facing the lens towards Enatsu's bare chest. Hearing the familiar click of the camera, the younger man breathed a sigh of relief, his superior finally relaxing against his leg. Flipping the handheld towards the restrained operator, Morgan held it lightly, as if expecting him to take it. Tentatively reaching out to the device, he spared but one glance towards the screen, turning it down before redirecting his gaze towards the former. 

“Who?” An unbridled anger shone clearly through his eyes, a fury Morgan relished, more than ready to use that anger to turn it against his former comrades. 

Feigning pity, Morgan stumbled for words, a pregnant silence filling the small room. “Son, the man that you called your love did this to you. We tried to save you from them, but they refused to let you go, and in a final show of resistance, they carved. . . well they carved that into you. Your former love isn’t whoever you once thought he was, seeing as he was willing to carve _that_ into you, the one person he was to love and protect!” 

A heavy pause hung through the room, one man deep in thought, the other awaiting the former’s response. Finally looking up to Morgan, rage feeling the fire in his eyes, Enatsu leaned forth, cracking his knuckles as he did so. “What is the mission? Capture or kill?”

A wicked smile painting his face, Morgan replied grimly, “Capture. We’re going to make him pay for what he did to you.” 

Nodding, the younger man stood up, casting one last glance back before leaving the room. Keeping his face neutral until he was sure Masaru had left, Morgan finally let loose a laugh, pumping his arm in celebration. Releasing all the tension that had built up in the previous hours. Smiling at his handiwork displayed on the phone one last time, he lifted himself off the bed, tossing the handheld onto the small cot before walking out, ready for the chaos to come.

On the phone showed a picture, a battered and bare chest, with large words carved into it; 

_ALL MINE_

* * *

Walking into the briefing room, Alexander Morgan had had an idea of how many people would turn up (after all, he had called in all officers to the meeting). No stranger to being the center of attention, Alexander took it in stride, taking a seat at the head of the table. Scanning the faces across the meeting room, he saw MacMillan and Enatsu standing towards the back, the former seemingly having taken up a pseudo-handler role. To his left was a line of important Generals and Commandants, including Major General MacArthur and High Commandant Fenix. Interesting, I wasn’t expecting High Command to be showing up today.

Clearing his throat, Morgan quelled whatever small chatter was still going on in favor of listening to whatever the disgraced officer had to say. “As you all know, we have recently been cleared for Operation Urban Vanguard, which means all combat service officers are to be put on the field.” 

As expected, a few murmurs arose from the brief silence, concerns raised on false alarms. Waiting a beat until the voices calmed again, Alexander began once more. “Now I know, most of you left your CTU's on, rather unsavory terms, but it is imperative that we have informants on all fronts, and who better to trust with that role than our own men?” 

A few nods of approval, a seemingly unanimous agreement that it was a generally good idea. From the back of the room, however, a fist was slammed on the wooden table, jolting many officers from their celebration, a distinctively Australian brogue layered over thinly-veiled anger. “And why don’t you go onto the field then?” 

All eyes locking onto a rather tall man, he began ranting on. “You speak of how us combat officers should go out of our ways to integrate back into our units, but what about you, hm? We all know your story; fifteen years in the SAS, direct assault missions across the globe. So why don’t you send yourself out, or better yet, send out that pet project of yours, the Asian boy!” 

Snapping to his feet, the High Commandant locked eyes with the Aussie, noting the patch that denoted his rank as a mere Captain. “Captain! You will _not_ speak to Lieutenant-Colonel Morgan in such a manner, opposing viewpoints or not!” 

If the Captain had any shred of self-preservation, he would have backed down, but seeing all the attention on him, fueled by pent up anger, he kept going, tipping the scales into not just disobedience, but direct defiance towards multiple superiors. “No! I won’t stand for this! When I joined the New Order, I was here because you said we would be cleansing the world of its impurities, not taking over the world. If this is the direction our vision is taking, then I quit!” 

A hush fell over the crowd, followed by an abrupt outrage. Before any grievous damage could be inflicted, a sharp whistle reverberated across the room, halting any and all chaos in the conference hall. As all’s gaze fell upon the High Commandant, their leader began barking out orders, his thundering voice commanding attention and respect. “Morgan, apprehend the Captain at once! Everyone else, leave now. For the combat officers, go and get ready for your deployments. 

Dismissed!”

Snapping his fingers, Morgan looked towards Echo expectantly. Without missing a beat, the defender made his way towards the defiant officer, tackling him against the wall. Twisting his arm behind his back, Enatsu pressed the Aussie flush against the wooden table, the latter landing with an “omph” as he collided against it. Nodding, Fenix looked like a man who had been thoroughly impressed, even going so far as to slowly clap. “Well done, Alexander. It seems that your project was a success. Would you be so kind as to present a demonstration?” 

Bowing his head, Morgan lifted his hand into a waving motion, cueing the SAT operative to display his set of skills. Releasing the officer, he began sparring with the man, seemingly toying with him as the Captain struggled to land any hits at all. Finally tired of playing with his prey, Echo flipped the man over, releasing the pistol from his drop-leg holster, placing the muzzle in the center of the man’s forehead. Although the Australian had raised his hands in surrender, Enatsu only pressed his weight further onto the pinned man. Before anyone could react, the safety on the handgun flipped off, the distinct sound of the slide racking snapping all parties back into reality. With the finality of a father unwilling to let a child loose, Morgan began barking out orders. “Echo, at ease!”

Releasing the officer without hesitation, Echo leapt off the man, standing at parade rest behind him. Groaning, the Australian began to rise, clutching his arm as he did so. Standing up, he started for Fenix, eyes blazing with fury.

Although limping at a considerably fast pace, he was still no match for a short whistle; within seconds, three shots rang out, a choked gurgle following suit. Face bearing an expression of pure shock, the officer stumbled back, glancing between the three well placed shots in his abdomen, and the SAT defender. Falling back, a dull thud echoed across the room, the dying man’s final breaths ragged and pained, until one final, deep breath, and silence. 

Deftly disassembling the handgun, Enatsu returned to parade rest, sticking close to his superior in the case of another deviant, a police baton handed to him by MacMillan, to which he clipped to his utility belt in case of any emergency requiring close combat. Quietly whistling, Fenix extended a hand towards Alexander, praising the man as they shook. “Well done, Alex, your project went far better than expected. Say, if I were to invest extra funds and equipment, would you say you could, oh I don’t know, perhaps capture more Rainbow operators and bend them to our will?”

Sadly shaking his head, Morgan turned his gaze downwards. “I’m afraid not, sir. Just turning this one to our cause took extensive time and a prototype brain reprogramming processor, and he wasn’t even torture resistant. To turn nearly any other operator would take months, perhaps even years to achieve, time which, with this plan, we cannot afford. Unless you are absolutely willing to delay plans for possibly years to come, we simply cannot afford further developments.”

“If that is the case, then so be it. I will send my best scientists and engineers to assist in the reprogramming processor, you just focus on how to capture more of these men.”

Snapping to attention, his men following suit, Morgan raised a closed fist to his heart, bowing his head as he did so, the High Commandant returning the gesture. “Yes sir, we will see to the success of our new operation. How does Operation Organized Takeover sound?”

“Perfect. Good luck Morgan, you’ll need it.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I guess that's my first official chapter on Ao3! 
> 
> I hope this is still up to standards with CW's usual writing! I don't really know what to say, so just have a good day!
> 
> – WaterMelanie


	5. Change Brings About the End

**Operation Organized Takeover **

**August 30 – 18:30:00 **

**Precision Strike Force Alpha **

**Ramadi, Iraq **

Being deployed back into Iraq, Enatsu didn’t expect to be outfitted in any special gear, so he packed light, carrying only what he had brought with him on short flight to the Hindu Kush as to not rouse any suspicion. Mind filing through the various Intel he had been given at the briefing and on the helicopter ride back, he walked past the entry checkpoint, presenting his Rainbow certificate when prompted, and curtly nodding to those who acknowledged his presence.

As the tread of his boots came to a halt, Echo stood before the very same door he had locked less than two days ago, dropping his duffel bag and paper bags, filled with various vegetables and fruits, as his alibi was that he was out getting groceries from a local settlement, which was conveniently a few days away, especially considering the only navigation was asking the locals for directions. Sliding the key into the knob, he turned it loose, a pained groan responding him as he entered the dimly lit room. _Wait, a groan? There was not meant to be any survivors. _

Rushing in, he was presented with the grotesque image of two would-be dead operatives, reaching out with bloodied hands towards in him, silently pleading for help. Turning back to the door, he began shouting for help, hoping that someone would hear his voice and come to the dying men's aid. Assessing the situation, he dropped to his knees, beginning to applying pressure to Pulse first, pressing down on poorly wrapped bandages to staunch the now bleeding wound in his gut area. Turning to Rook, he muttered a soft “Don’t move” before focusing all his efforts on making sure Pulse didn’t bleed out. Where this protective state came from, he had no idea, except for that two voices were battling in his head, one calling for him to help his friends, the other attempting to command his mind, trying to fill him with thoughts of leaving these men to die.

Shaking his head, human empathy overriding any other thoughts. Gently patting his cheek, Enatsu made an effort to keep the American operator awake, but to no avail; the sheer amount of blood he had already lost had thrown him into shock, and with his body unable to compensate for the lost blood, he had fallen unconscious. Finally hearing footfalls from outside the hall, the Japanese defender began yelling for help anew, this time yielding the results he had wanted. As two Marines barged in, they instinctually cringed, reeling back at the site of the massacre. Eyes making contact with Echo's, the men kicked back into drive, one running out to get the base medic, the other shot forwards, lightly unwrapping the bandages to assess the damage. Apologizing when the Frenchman winced, he paused a moment to examine the damage, before turning him to the side in search of an exit wound. Finding no wound, the Marine mumbled unintelligible words, grabbing the gauze and rewrapping the GIGN operative's shoulder as he did so.

Finally returning with the resident doc, the Marine left again in search of a SAT phone, so that Echo could contact Hereford for an evac. Grabbing a bedsheet from a nearby cot, the medic laid the fabric on the concrete ground, beckoning Enatsu over. “Alright, here’s the deal; your friends are critical condition, and if we don’t get them a blood transfusion, they’ve no chance of survival. You grab him by the arms, I’ll hold 'm by the legs. On my count, we lift him up and onto the sheet, capiche?”

Nodding solemnly, Enatsu wrapped his arms under the American defender's arms, lifting him up and over with a grunt.

* * *

By the time Team Rainbow had arrived, the Marines had managed to somewhat stabilize him, although he was still unconscious, with little chance of recovery unless he received real medical attention. Thankfully, Rainbow had the good sense to send Doc, who had been the first to leap off the Chinook as it touched down. While the corpsmen had done what little they could, providing as much blood as they could afford in a transfusion, and wrapping his torso in clean bandages, they didn’t have enough resources at the FOB to are for such injuries, notably taking into account the fact that they were miles away for the nearest shred of civilization. Leading the good doctor and a pair of recruits carrying gurneys, Echo couldn’t help but feel a pang of fear strike him. Why did he choose to save them? He could’ve just finished the job, could’ve reopened their wounds and let them bleed out.

And yet, he had chosen to save them (for now at least).

He could do it though, right? To kill the men who had investigated his commander, plotted to kill him, scarred him and humiliated him?

(To bring himself to kill innocent men, who are injured no less, he means)

<strike>It was no longer a matter of morals, but a matter of if he could finish the job.</strike>

* * *

**August 31 – 56:03:56 **

**Quick Reaction Force Hotel Bravo Echo (QRF-HBE) **

**Hereford Base, England **

In the hours leading up to Task Force Foxtrot’s return, Harry had elected to keep the information from the on-hand team, as to not throw everyone into chaos, although he was well aware of the repercussions that could stem from the decision. Unfortunately, this also meant that when the bird finally touched down on British soil, nobody had been quite sure what would waiting for them on the other side of the sliding panel. Among the first to arrive at the helipad had been Ash, Hibana, and Thermite, the trio having just finished their morning run, a ritual they had been performing for the last four years, every day they were on the same rotation.

Squinting into the sun, Jordan had yanked Yumiko by the shoulder, nearly pulling her off her feet from the sheer force of the grab. Clutching her shoulder, she scowled at him before noticing where he was staring. Gazing up at the helicopter, the pair looked up in awe, the unexpected aircraft capturing their undivided attention. Dragging a yelling Eliza as they ran inside to avoid the deafening roar of the chopper blades lowering back down to earth, they hid behind the glass doors, waiting for the occupants to get out of the rear seats. To their shock, Doc was among the first to jump out, with Echo right behind him. Opening the door, Hibana shielded her face with her hands, head lowered to avoid the dust blowing from the rotors as she slowly approached the aircraft. “Where’ve you been? And why is Enatsu covered in blood–”

Peeking behind the two larger men, she caught a glimpse of three bodies, but only two's chests still heaved for breath. Although she tried pushing them aside, Enatsu had lifted her off the ground, the shorter Japanese operator pushing and screaming despite the former desperately trying to stop her, although his tone was scarily monotone. As the older man carried his fellow operator away, Thermite and Ash rushed out to help Doc, gasping when they saw the body of their coworkers, their shock turning to anger and confusion when they saw Pulse among the injured. Grabbing a bundle of gurneys, the pair of Americans jogged over to the helicopter, helping the French doctor carry the lifeless bodies of their friends, withheld tears welling in their eyes. One by one, they carried the bodies of their comrades to the infirmary, drawing the attention of their fellow soldiers, hushed whispers echoing across the halls. By the time they had finally carried Monika to the infirmary, the rest of her GSG9 brethren had been ready, waiting, praying that the closest thing to a sister they all had was still if not well, then at least alive.

The noise that ripped itself free from Marius' throat would be one that Jordan would never forget, so raw and guttural it ripped through the hearts of all nearby, screams of pain soon turning into racking sobs of disbelief and agony, the entire German CTU, along with other close friends, mourning the loss of the glue that held them together. Despite attempts at dragging them away had been far and few between, many still tried talking them away, but to no avail; Monika’s boys would not leave her side, their tightly-knit relationship taking “till death do us part” to a whole new level.

Unknowing of who did this, but sure of one thing, the trio made a silent agreement: whoever had done this to their fellow German, would receive a punishment ten-fold to what they had done to her.

* * *

Seated across from Masaru, one of the primary emotions Hibana thought she would be feeling would be elation and relief, glad that the closest thing she had to a brother, and family at that, had come home safe, even if her own love had been critically injured.

However, the only thing she felt now was suspicion.

Masaru had never been the type to talk much unless prompted, that much she knew, but she also knew that underneath the narcissistic attitude he put up was a caring person, one who worried for the safety and well-being of those he loved and cherished. Now, he seemed devoid of emotion, silent, impassive, and unflinching, either refusing to react to Yumiko's previous actions, or unwilling to accept something personal. Many a time she had tried to strike up small talk, but every time the conversation had either shut itself down, or it had become so stale it was more entertaining to watch paint dry. Now, sitting across from her psuedo-older brother, she saw only an increasing amount of suspicious activities, eventually deciding to see Lesion about it.

Excusing herself from the room, she heard footfalls echoing behind her as she left, although they slowly fell away, the distinct clicking of his boots fading as they parted ways. Softly knocking on the door, Yumiko slipped in the SDU dorm, the door clicking shut behind her. Waving her in with a warm but tired smile, Lesion ushered her in, already beginning to brew her favorite tea as they waited. “Hello Yumi, it’s been a little while! What do you need? Also, have you seen Masaru? I talked to him for a little while, but I haven’t seen him anywhere since.”

Taking her usual seat across from him on the twin couches, Yumiko’s face bore and uncharacteristically grim expression. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Have you noticed anything, odd, about him since he came back? I know it’s probably wrong of me to think that way, but I can’t help but feel that he’s changed since he’s come back.”

Mouth tightening into a thin line, Tze Long understandingly. “Yes, something is most definitely not as it seems, and I fear it may be affecting Masaru's behavior. I know that he is often a reserved person, but I also know that he cares deeply for those he values, which is why I’ve found it odd that he’s been actively avoiding us, or at least so I believe. Perhaps we should talk to Jack whenever he can receive visitors? If you are okay with it, I do believe he was of the last people go see him before this while, _mess_.”

Finally agreeing to a set time, the pair shook hands, parting ways as they planned out their own approaches to their Enatsu Dilemma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I may or may not have forgotten that there is another story for me to work on. Please forgive my ignorance, as I assure you that I will not be making this mistake again.  
-Melanie

**Author's Note:**

> So that was that! I hope you guys enjoyed, because I personally had fun writing it.
> 
> As always, tell me what you did, or didn’t like. Any type of comment would be greatly appreciated, even if all it says is ‘AHHHHHHH’ (I assure you, even that would make my day)
> 
> My hope is to get a chapter out every week or two, perhaps switching off with OMNTT, but it’ll take me a little bit to find a groove that I can work with.


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